


The Snake and The Mongoose

by ElectraRhodes



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 11:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11462730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectraRhodes/pseuds/ElectraRhodes
Summary: Collection of stories for the Hannigardeners group over on Tumblr1. The Snake and The Mongoose - Post TWOTL and Will is endeavouring to come to terms with all that has changed. But there's a snake in the garden.2. Zucchini glut - Will gets signed off work but not everything can be contained. Hannibal and Team Sassy Science learn to love squash.3. The Peony - a flower in bloom





	1. The Snake and The Mongoose

Hannibal stood at the sink in the kitchen and finished washing the last of the dishes. Outside in the small sun filled walled garden he could see Will kneeling beside a small bed backed up against the bricks. It got sun throughout the day and the profusion of herbs growing there gave testimony to the arid warm conditions beloved by rosemary, oregano, and thyme.

He watched as Will wiped an arm across his head. Probably warm although it was still early. He took one of the glasses he'd just washed up and filled it with water.

Outside he offered it to Will. It was always hard to predict Will's responses to anything Hannibal offered. Sometimes it was with pain etched across his face. Sometimes a fleeting wistfulness. And the look Hannibal most loathed, a kind of muted indifference and numbness.

After they fell and survived Will had got quieter and quieter. He hadn't withdrawn exactly he just had less to say. He listened. That was certain. And didn't seem to mind if Hannibal endeavoured to fill every kind of silence between them. But there seemed to be nothing he found worth sharing in response. And even his looks and occasional half smiles seemed to have retreated along with his core.

Will looked at the glass as though it was some kind of test and took it. He drank it in one go and handed the glass back and went back to what he was doing in the bed. Hannibal paused to see if he'd say anything. He gave in after a few minutes and went back indoors.

He'd made a deliberate effort not to watch Will at work in the garden. When they'd arrived it had been scrubby and half gone. Bindweed and couch grass had taken up residence and in one quarter almost the whole area was populated by ground elder. But Hannibal had watched as Will had gone round and really looked at what was there.

Later he'd found a small drawing and a list. Of what was there and of what might be possible. Over subsequent weeks he'd come across bigger drawings and plans. It filled him with something. Maybe hope. But Will hadn't explained or even really shown him what he had in mind. Though he did start work outside.

Over the first autumn he'd cleared. Laid down exclusion mulch. Built a large compost heap and a hot bed. He'd made three raised beds and a herb spiral. He'd bought some fruit trees to heel in. Hannibal had found notes about sun levels, wind direction, dry zones and wet patches. He saw several pictures of possible futures. Will had asked to borrow some coloured pencils and Hannibal had handed them over without query.

He'd found a list too of things Will wanted the garden to achieve;

Somewhere to eat, some things to eat, shade to sit in, soft and hard fruits, somewhere to dry clothes and for wood to be stacked. On the list was a smokehouse with a question mark beside it. Again, Will didn't ask Hannibal about any things he might like but Hannibal was moderately content just to see how it evolved. Will's design.

Over the winter Will picked up seed catalogues and almanacs. Some of the French names and descriptions were beyond him and occasionally Hannibal would find a page ear marked with a post it note and a question mark beside it. Hannibal had taken to providing a short translation or an explanation on each one. Will said nothing but gradually Hannibal noticed that seed packets were arriving.

Right in the depths of winter Will constructed a bonfire. Hannibal couldn't help but notice that some of the things Will had brought with him were consigned to it. Nothing too dramatic, just the shirt he'd worn the night they killed the dragon. The shoes too. Hannibal hadn't been able to decide if they were symbolic in some way.

Will took to reading histories of gardens and garden restorations. Hannibal even found one or two novels concerning gardens and gardeners sitting beside Will's side of the bed on the floor. A few dvds arrived featuring movies with gardens as either a focus or a kind of character in the plotting.

In the early spring or late winter Will started work outside again. There were some spring bulbs and just occasionally Hannibal would find a bunch of daffodils or crocus on the draining board beside the sink. He'd put them in water and let them sing their colour.

All the vegetable scraps and peelings went into the compost heap. Will always separated out any animal waste. Or the other waste. That was buried under an area Will had marked out for nutrient loving house flowers.

Sometimes Will would bring in something from the garden that could form part of their meal. It was too early for much but Will had clearly found a local source of wild garlic when bunches appeared regularly for just over a week. Hannibal noted his urine was almost green for a while. And Will smelled and tasted of something from the woods.

As the spring wore on and Will spent more time outside Hannibal had interrupted him sometimes lying on a blanket staring at the sky or listening to music quietly playing on a radio. He seemed to have found a station that played old French pop and accordion in equal measure. Once or twice Hannibal had sat down with him. Will had always moved over to accommodate him, if nothing more. It seemed to be a fine metaphor.

Hannibal couldn't be sure about any of this. On the one hand it suggested a kind of permanence, the laying down of a garden a commitment to an unknowable future. On the other hand it could also mean the suppression of a range of emotions. Dug into the soil, pruned out, layered away, weeded, composted.

By the summer Hannibal had discovered Will considered it acceptable for him to be outside but didn't want or need any help. This, accompanied by the lack of words and gradual neutrality on Will's face and in his actions rendered Hannibal somehow helpless. There was almost nothing he could do if Will simply refused to engage. And whilst Hannibal was almost content to simply be with Will it wasn't quite what he had ever imagined. 

It changed of course. The same day Hannibal had taken the water out to Will. Late into the afternoon he heard an exclamation and Will came into the house holding his arm up and out,

"Something bit me. A snake. It got away. I don't know what it was. Shit. Can you see the bite. What do we do? Hannibal? Can you help me?"

Hannibal took him over to the sink and the best light in the house.

"I'll get you a chair, sit down, rest your arm on the side. Take slow breaths. Not deep, just slow. Count if it helps. We want to keep your heart rate down"

Will looked at him,

"First time for everything then"

Hannibal had smiled back very slightly as he brought over one of the high stools from the kitchen bar. Will slid onto it and rested his arm.

"You know what to do, right?"

"Do you know what colour the snake was? That bit you"

As he spoke he ran some warm water into the sink and began to clean the small amount of blood away.

"It wasn't big. Stupid of me. I wasn't paying attention. I've seen them before. Around. I should have looked at what I was doing"

"Moving rocks?"

"Yeah. Can you see it?"

They both looked, two small punctures slightly reddened at the edges. 

"We'll keep it under warm running water, flush it. I'll check the local pharmacie"

"You won't leave me?"

Hannibal looked at the alarm on Will's face,

"No, of course not. I'll ring them"

He picked up his cell and consulted the paper directory that lived in an alcove along with other mostly redundant but saved paperwork.

After a short conversation in French that Will understood maybe a quarter of Hannibal explained,

"Nothing poisonous here. But they said to keep it very clean. To watch for any spread of heat or colour in the surrounding tissue. And to go back into the garden and carry on. Not moving rocks she said. But just to appreciate it is perfectly safe to do so"

Will looked at him,

"Alright. Does it need to be covered? Can you do it?"

"She said to cover it loosely, I'll get the first aid box."

When Hannibal returned it was with the box that Chiyoh had left them after their tortuous recovery and escape. Or escape and recovery. Hannibal still hadn't decided which it was. Will frowned a little, but then his face cleared and he smiled,

"Nice of her to leave this with us"

Hannibal smiled too, this was the first time Will had even referred to those few days that turned into weeks.

"Is she anywhere near by now?"

"Chiyoh? I don't think so. She had people to see. A life to be lived"

"I hope she is. Living. I mean"

Hannibal nodded. He hoped they were too. Will stretched out his arm and turned it.

"I don't think it hurts. It was the shock as much as anything. Will you come back with me outside. I understand the whole get back on the horse thing. But. Well."

"Of course. I'll change my shoes."

Once outside Hannibal asked where Will had seen the snake slide off to. They carefully moved a few things around but there was no sign.

"So much for a mongoose ehh?"

"A mongoose?"

"You called me a mongoose. That time you brought me breakfast. I guess made with that girl Cassie?"

"Cassie Boyle. Yes. I'd forgotten about the mongoose"

"Too busy thinking of me as a teacup?"

"Perhaps"

"Do you want to see the rest of the garden? I could show you. If you wanted. I think you'll like it. I made it for you really"

He held out a hand, the non injured side, and with some surprise Hannibal took it, and walked with Will, into the green. Hope planted once again.


	2. Zucchini Glut

It had begun as something of a joke. Ever since Will had been given long term leave on health grounds he and Hannibal had first of all begun seeing each other, then ‘dating’, then had semi-moved in together, and were now co-habiting between Baltimore and Wolf Trap. That wasn’t the joke. 

The joke was that when they made it official Will started to indulge his gardening habit. Extensively. Of course everyone in the team and in his classes knew about the whole outdoor thing; the dogs, the fishing, the whole lumberjack aesthetic, his boyfriend’s antler obsession, and passion for Japanese maple, azalea, and Sakura. They hadn’t really anticipated the gifts of fruit and vegetables though. Or the quantities. Or the varieties,

“What is it?” Hissed Jimmy,

Bev glared at it, “Something foreign”

“I know that. Most veg grown in the US is foreign. How foreign?”

Will sighed, “It’s only a heritage tomato”

“Why’s it black. Tomatoes aren’t black!”

“These are. Try one. They’re good”

Reluctantly the team reached in and plucked one each from the small vine. They all looked surprised.

“Sweet!”

“Juicy”

Will grinned. It was taking time but slowly he was convincing them into trying new vegetables and fruit. Jack had held out the longest,

“Look, everyone knows my mother didn’t cook. I don’t cook. Bella doesn’t cook. The only person we know who cooks is Hannibal. And you. And maybe Alana. Only give me things I can recognise and just eat.”

Will had mainly brought him salad leaves and fruits after that. But he had hopes. Come the summer though when it got into zucchini season? Tempers began to fray. Because it started out slow. Then became something a little funny. And then got ridiculous. 

Jack would open drawers in his office to find several zucchini in a paper bag. Jimmy opened one of the morgue refrigerator doors to find a large wooden box of zucchini. Bev had found some in the back of her pick-up truck. Brian had gone home one night and tripped over a shopping bag full left on his doorstep. Alana had sulked for a week because she hadn’t been given any until it turned out that Apple-sauce was misnamed and regularly ate the zucchini Will left at her house. Perhaps mistaking them for green bones.

Perhaps sensing the limits of everyone’s tolerance two weeks into the zucchini fest Will switched tactics and got Hannibal involved.

Everyone was given zucchini cake, zucchini muffins, zucchini and ginger jam, stir fried zucchini, battered and stuffed zucchini flowers, zucchini 'pasta’, zucchini cookies, grilled zucchini, barbecued zucchini. Maybe the limit was reached when all but one of the dishes at Will and Hannibal’s summer barbecue contained zucchini in some shape or form.

Beverly was tasked with taking Hannibal aside,

“Han. I love that Will is looking so much better. I even like that we now get free food and that everyone’s nutrition has improved. But Hannibal please, I beg you. The zucchini have got to stop.”

Hannibal smiled at her somewhat desperately.

“Beverly, come with me please”

At the back of the house he directed her down a path to the bottom of the garden which was now basically Will’s domain. 

“Look”

She looked,

“Hannibal I don’t have a clue what I’m looking at. It’s green. And other things. A lot of green.”

“We have forty two zucchini plants. Eight different varieties. At most a household needs maybe three or four plants, and that’s generous. That’s if they like zucchini”

“Why did he get so many?”

Hannibal smiled at her, directed her to a wooden bench shrouded in a climbing bottle neck squash vine, 

“I think for several reasons, he grew up rural poor, proper vegetables were limited in either variety or quantity. I grew up mostly in an orphanage. Neither of us had very food filled childhoods. Will is meeting a deep rooted need he sees in both of us as well as our mutual need to also look after others. It happens that for both of us providing food is a large part of this. I’m reluctant to stymy his outlet now he finally has one. And I admit I am not immune I find it richly rewarding too. And we are all eating better.”

Bev nodded. Ok. These were all good reasons. Hell good reasons. And Hannibal had clearly thought about this hard.

“Ok. I get it. Ok. What are you going to do though Hannibal. Even I can see there are a lot of squash here”

“I have had discussions with a local homeless and veterans shelter. We’re in negotiations for Will to supply surplus”

Bev nodded, she could see the wisdom of this too,

“And the rest?”

“I’d suggest we get the team together and maybe plan next year’s garden?”

“With Will?”

“I think he’d enjoy it. He’d feel he was still contributing. He’d feel that he was still looking out for the people for whom he cares most about. And we also wouldn’t be stuck with zucchini for breakfast lunch and supper.”

He paused for a moment,

“Every day”

Bev grinned. Alright. This was a good plan. One she could get behind. And get the others on board with. They just had to get through the zucchini glut.

Five weeks later and the last zucchini was done. Eight weeks later and Brian finished the last of his jam. Three weeks after that Bev unfroze the last of the ginger chocolate and zucchini muffins and ate the whole lot in one sitting. By late September zucchini were just a blessed memory.

In mid October Will invited everyone from the team round,

“I’ve got this idea. And say if you hate it. But the whole gardening thing. I’d love it if everyone helped choose what we grow next year. Well, what I grow and Hannibal cooks. I’ve got catalogues and books and things”

He leaned a hand on a small pile of books and papers beside him, Bev glanced at Hannibal who was smiling at Will proudly. There were nods and agreement round the table.

Three hours later they’d eaten what Hannibal called a scratch supper and everyone else had moaned their way through. And they had come up with lists either individually or in pairs. Will collected everything in and flipped through the notepads as they all drank coffee or herb teas. 

When everyone had gone and Will and Hannibal had cleared up Hannibal put his arm round Will, and kissed his forehead,

“Happy with how that went? Enough ideas?”

Will turned towards him and leaned in and kissed him,

“Actually its funny. I’d thought everyone had got fed up with the zucchini, but it’s on every list and there’s twelve varieties here. I guess we’ll just have to manage the glut like this year. Oh. Hang on.”

He looked at the catalogue entry that someone had asterisked in bold black pen,

“Oh! Excellent. That’s a good idea. '101 things to do with zucchini and other squash”

Hannibal took the catalogue from him and scanned the entry. 101 things? Well. It would be a start.

“Perfect. And I’m sure everyone will be delighted”

“That’s good, because the pumpkin are about to start cropping and we’ve maybe fifty plants of those”

Hannibal smiled at him, stroked his head, 

“And Halloween just around the corner? How forward thinking you are”

“We can do the whole decoration and give out candy thing can’t we?”

“Was that something you did as a child?”

“Nah, never in the right place or with the right people or, well, you know?”

Hannibal kissed Will again,

“I do indeed my darling, yes I do.”


	3. The Peony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Twotl - gardening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Snannibal over on Twitter as part of a card/stamp exchange.

Will bent his head to smell the peonies. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Although is primary sense had always been sight he understood Hannibal's aesthetic efforts to encourage him to indulge sound, and touch, smell and, of course, taste.

The peonies were beautiful to look at too. Tightly unfurling into blousyness. But the smell? A certain kind of heaven. Deep, exotic, velvety. Will frowned. Could something smell like a texture? He considered his own brain, his non-typical neorology. If his vision was so unusual why not his other senses too?

"Hannibal? What does the smell of something feel like to you? Not the emotional response, it's texture?"

Hannibal straightened up from where he was dead heading roses, and turned to look at him.

"Taste and smell and closely aligned sensory encounters. What is its texture? I don't know?"

Will blinked,

"Alright. These peonies smell the way velvet feels."

"Yes? What about the roses?"

"These ones?"

Will came closer and smiled at Hannibal before he lowered his head and scented the roses. Hannibal watched him, cuiosoty alight. Will laughed,

"Like leather. Unfinished. That bag you bought. It feels like leather. The smell does."

"Does it have a taste too? Close your eyes, it will help you to focus."

Will breathed in and out of his nose a few times,

"It tastes like nighttime. Just before we go to sleep."

They went round the garden then, Will smelling each plant, trying to find words to describe how they tasted, what the texture was, what part of the day or the week they signified. Just from the scent alone. At the end Will smiled a little ruefully,

"Just my brain. Being weird. Again."

"Synesthaesia."

"Yeah. I've heard of it. One sense reads as something different in the brain, right? Yeah. Maybe."

Hannibal tipped his head to one side.

"I know you see things you're not always glad to discover. And with smell you experience texture or time or taste. What about sound or touch?"

He reached out a hand and lightly brushed Will's,

"How's that?"

Will smiled broadly,

"Oh that's easy. That's home."

.....................

"


End file.
